No Day But Today
by Dylan Storm
Summary: From here on in, I shoot without a script. See if anything comes of it…"


**A/N: This is an idea I've been sitting on for awhile, I just finally got around to writing it! I'll explain more in the next chapter about the story itself, but I wanted to see how many people could guess where I am heading with this ;) **

**I'm pretty decent at self-editing, but I finished this pretty late at night, so please excuse any grammar or spelling. I'd love a beta, if anyone is interested ;) **

**Anyhow- disclaimer!! Not mine, not mine, not mine. I make no money, see no royalties off of this! Just get to play around with characters :)!**

* * *

"December 24th, 1989, 9 p.m., Eastern Standard Time.

From here on in, I shoot without a script. See if anything comes of it… Instead of my old shit."

As the camera rolled in his hands, the homeless man was shooed away from the street corner, attempting to wash the windshield of a car stopped at the intersection.

Watching the encounter, the mood of the moment ruined, he decided to go home. It was getting late, and his ass was freezing. Good thing he had brought his bike, it would be faster than walking, and he wanted to get home and get warm.

-- -- --

His frustrated breath billowed into smoke in the chilly Christmas Eve air. The angry red letters on the eviction notice screaming at him as he stood at the top of the stairs.

"Spin? What's taking you so long?" Craig's head popped outside of the cracked open loft door. His left eyebrow rose in confusion as he observed his roommate, noticing the direction of his gaze.

"Oh yea, that," Craig opened the door further, and stepped out into the hallway, "Saw it as I went downstairs to take out the trash. Damn yuppie didn't even have the decency to knock on the door to let me know when he posted it."

Spinner's confused gaze turned to his shaggy haired roommate,

"I thought he said we'd be taken care of! And it's Christmas Eve, goddamn it!"

"I guess it's his way of whishing us a merry Christmas." Craig sighed, "You're not going to like this either: our heat and power were turned off too."

Spinner swore under his breath. "Yea, merry Christmas, _and_ a happy Hanukkah too."

Shutting the door with slam as they walked inside, Spinner slung the camera bag off his shoulder and onto the table as Craig collapsed back onto the couch. He grabbed his guitar, and started to fiddle with notes.

"Have you just been sitting around all day?"

Craig rolled his eyes, "No, _mother_, I said I took out the trash."

Spinner stopped unpacking his equipment, leaning onto the table with a sigh.

"Craig, it's been over a year. This is getting unheal-"

He was silenced with a glare, and just gave up. Silence filled the room until the phone rang, the shrill tone breaking the tension.

As their answering machine picked up, Jimmy's voice filled the room.

"You guys still screening your calls? Jeez Spin, there's this thing called paranoia...-"

Spin grabbed the phone off the receiver,

"Brooks!"

"I'm downstairs!"

"Really? What-"

"Throw down the key man!"

As Spinner set the phone down and moved to grab the keys off the counter, Craig looked up from his guitar,

"What did Jimmy want?"

"He's downstairs,"

Craig got up in a hurry, and they both moved out to the balcony, looking down to see a grinning Jimmy Brooks. Spinner tossed the keys down, and Jimmy caught them with ease.

"Be up in a minute!"

But as Craig and Spinner turned around and went back into their loft, a man approached Jimmy.

"Got a light?"

"Nah man, I don't smoke," Jimmy began, not noticing the two men coming up behind.

"Too bad," The guy in front of him grinned strangely, and the next thing Jimmy knew was pain.

-- -- --

Craig settled back onto the coach, picked up his guitar, and idly strummed as Spinner sat down at the table and began to go through his day's work.

Listening to the notes Craig was playing, Spinner sighed, "How am I supposed to document real life when it's getting more like fiction each day?"

Craig just shrugged as Spin continued, "There are all these headlines about the homeless problem in the city, and now this: eviction, or pay!"

He didn't even look up as he continued to pick the strings,

"It doesn't make sense Spin, I know. A more important question though, is how am I supposed to write a song when the chords sound wrong. They once sounded right and rare… But now they're sour… Where is the power I once had to ignite the air?"

"Our heat is off, we're going to lose our loft, and all you care about is a song? Jesus Craig, we're hungry and frozen.."

"But this is the life that we've chosen, Spin. This is where we wanted to be."

It was Spinner's turn to role his eyes,

"Thanks Craig, that's really helpful."

"I certainly try."

"So, how are we gonna do it?" Spinner asked.

"Do what?"

"How are we going to pay the rent? How do we afford to pay a whole year's worth of back-rent?"

"I guess that's just it, we don't."

Spinner got up from the table, incredulous. "So you want us to be out on the street? How's that going to help?"

Craig put down his guitar and stood up as well, walking towards the window. "I'm calling his bluff. We're not going to pay the rent. Last year's or this year's. If he wants us out, he'll have to carry our cold corpses from the building."

"Musicians are so melodramatic," but Spinner shrugged, accepting the resolution, "He's not going to like it."

"Well, he'll have to grow a pair." Craig was still at the window, looking around, "What happened to Jimmy? It's been almost 10 minutes…"

Spinner looked to the clock, and realized the Craig was right, it shouldn't have taken this long for Jimmy to climb the stairs. Sighing, he picked his jacket and scarf, and grabbed his bike.

"I'll go look for him. Idiot must have gotten sidetracked by something outside."

Craig looked over to Spin as he was putting the bike onto his shoulder,

"Spin, idiots film homeless people, they don't get into MIT."

-- -- --

**Review? Pretty please? Constructive criticism is as equally welcome as praise it! **


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